And She Said Yes
by Lear's Daughter
Summary: A story in response to a question I raised in my fic Realizations. What would have happened if Magneto had asked Rogue to power his machine in X1? Obviously an AU of the first movie.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: A story in response to a question I raised in my fic "Realizations." What would have happened if Magneto had _asked_ Rogue to power his machine in X1? Obviously an AU of the first movie. Not at all necessary to read my previous fic to follow this one (although I encourage you to do so, wink wink nudge nudge).

Note: I shouldn't be starting another WIP, but I am. I promise to try to update this one faithfully. If it has enough interest, I hope to be able to extend it through all three movies. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with X-Men.

Chapter 1

Magneto did not immediately look up when Mystique viciously slammed the door to his office, so she added a furious growl for good measure. Curious as he was to know what had his second-in-command in such a state, the dignified leader of the Brotherhood nevertheless refused to reward such behavior with the response she was searching for, and continued to peruse the papers in front of him for several long minutes before he at last raised his stern gaze to observe the fuming mutant.

"I take it from your behavior that there is something you wish to speak to me about, Raven?" he inquired mildly, his slate grey eyes flashing at her disturbance of his private sanctum.

"I just got back from talking to those -- those -- " apparently, only one word was suitable for expressing the extent of her disgust " -- _humans_," she spat, her yellow eyes narrowed in such anger that Magneto was momentarily alarmed.

"You didn't kill them, Raven?" he demanded, standing abruptly and glaring down at her. "You know that we can't afford to tip our hand too soon."

"I'm not an idiot, Erik. I _wanted_ to kill them, but I knew that they'd get their comeuppance in the end," she said with a savage grin.

"What did they do that made you so angry?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The same thing all humans do," Mystique growled. "Sneer down their noses at us, call _us_ the inferior ones when they should be nothing more than the dirt beneath our feet."

"That still doesn't explain the extent of your fury, my dear," Magneto replied, examining her intently.

She shook her head and seemed to deflate in front of him, some of her anger escaping as she sighed. She sank into one of the chairs in front of his desk. "This girl, their daughter, _Marie_...she had such promise. Top of her class in everything, always compassionate, that rare breed who would have been a friend to mutants even if she hadn't been one -- if we lived in the world as it should be, she might have become a great leader among mutants. Instead, her 'loving' family finds out that she has powers they can never hope to comprehend and she is thrown out onto the street like so much garbage."

"I see," Magneto said quietly. "Her story reminded you of her own."

Mystique spread her palms, examining their hue critically. "You know that I have never regretted being a mutant, at least not since I met you," she said slowly, the expression on her face revealing a vulnerability he was not used to seeing there. "But you can't really understand what it's like not being able to blend in as one of them except by becoming something you weren't meant to be. You -- you could live as a human all your days without using your powers and nobody would ever be the wiser. For Marie and me, that was never an option. In my natural form -- " she gestured to her lithe, unclothed, blue body " -- I stick out like a sore thumb. Marie can wear all the layers she wants, but sooner or later she'll accidentally touch someone, and when she does she'll be shunned again."

"Raven," he began carefully, disliking the look of empathy she had on her face, although he was also intrigued by these expressions of empathy from his usually heartless second, "you do remember what we need her for, don't you? You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

Her fragile expression hardened at his inquiry. "Don't be a fool, Erik," she hissed angrily, although who she was angry with perhaps even she did not know. "I know what's at stake, what we need her for. She'll die to ensure that the next person like her who comes along will have the chances she should have had, so that people like us will never _want_ to fit in with everyone else. I _envy_ her her martyrdom, her gift. I only hope I can die for as glorious a cause as she will."

Magneto's handsome face was intent as he examined her carefully, looking for any signs of doubt or uncertainty in her face. Finding none, he nodded in satisfaction. "Then tell me what you have learned, and let us help her on the way to achieving that martyrdom."

* * *

Rogue sighed and stared moodily into her glass of water, focusing on the way the glass and its liquid distorted her face. If she tilted her head this way, her face looked unnaturally wide and grotesque. That way, and it was too long and thin. _And either way it's still a damned mutant looking back at me,_ she groused inwardly. She had been on the road for a couple of weeks now, making her way north on that trip she'd always promised herself she'd take, and she was only a couple hours' drive from Laughlin City. This trip was supposed to be her way of escaping from home, from the strict confines of her parents' expectations and the strict cultural rules that dictated her every movement at school and at church. This trip was supposed to have been about finding herself.

As it turned out, she felt as if her finding herself was what had forced her to go on the trip many months earlier than she had planned. Suddenly goody two-shoes Marie had turned into "dangerous mutant Rogue," and despite the way that her parents had reacted, despite the fact that she had sent her boyfriend at the time into a three week long coma, a part of her was glad of it. That's not to say that she hadn't loved her life before her mutancy kicked in -- she had, but she had also chafed at the many restrictions in her life, at the feeling of weakness in the face of the larger powers of society and God.

Now, though...now she was her own woman, a mutant doomed to be despised for her power and who would probably never be able to touch anyone ever again. A mutant who could hurt people with her power, but who could also use her power to learn things and to empathize with people in a way she never could before. It was a liberating, conflicting feeling, and more often than not led to musings that reeked of depression.

She shifted slightly in her chair as she felt someone take the seat next to her, not looking up from her glass. She was well aware that she wasn't old enough to be legally allowed into a bar, but this part of the country seemed to have some particularly shady drinking establishments, and she had quickly learned that the people who frequented them could be quite unsavory.

"This is no place for a young woman traveling alone," the man who had just sat down remarked casually, his English perfect and clipped and with the barest undertone of some foreign accent.

She stiffened at the sound of his voice, not wanting to have to deal with any unpleasantness. The last time she'd been accosted in a bar, she'd left her would-be assailant unconscious in the snow with his thoughts running around uncomfortably in her head. Still, she didn't think that ignoring the man was going to help, so she slowly lifted her gaze to meet his.

Despite herself, she found that she liked what she saw. He was an older gentleman, well past his prime and yet with a vigor to his posture that made him seem younger. His short silver hair was complemented by his intent grey eyes; his features, though weathered with age and care, were handsome and strangely alluring. He was dressed quite differently from the rest of the bar's clientele, in a neatly pressed sweater and pair of slacks. The expression in his eyes was almost kind.

"I can take care of myself," Rogue drawled, her refined Southern accent persisting even in this most unrefined place. Her hands were clasped together under the table, her thick gloves not unseasonably warm in the Northern winter. She slowly drew one off, just in case -- though her instincts about people were usually good, touching them was a sure way to know their intentions.

"I'm sure you can," the man replied, his voice amused. "Still, this is hardly the kind of locale that befits a young lady such as yourself."

She bristled at his tone. "And I suppose _you_ fit in here?" she demanded angrily, her chocolate brown eyes flashing as she looked pointedly at his more distinguished outfit.

His gaze swept around the bar disdainfully. "Here? Hardly," he said. "Under normal circumstances I would refuse to enter such an establishment. No, my dear Marie, I am here because you are here."

She paled at his words and stood abruptly, nearly overturning her stool as she did so. She stepped back from him even as he gracefully stood and faced her, his face expressionless.

"You must have made some kind of mistake," she said unconvincingly, drawing off her other glove and dropping it to the floor so that she had both hands free, then holding both hands in front of her as if to ward off an attack. "My name's Rogue."

He raised an eyebrow. "If you insist," he said. "That name suits you better anyway." He eyed her ungloved hands warily. "If I promise that it is not my intention to harm you this night, will you stop waving those about in that menacing fashion and sit down again? My old bones are a bit creaky in this cold, and I prefer not to stand."

She glared at him, then reluctantly, slowly, sat, never taking her eyes off of his face. "Don't make any sudden movements," she warned. "Don't think I didn't notice you only mentioned not harming me _tonight_ -- and that stuff about your 'old bones' is quite obviously a load of crap, mister."

Rather than become angry at her tone as she had suspected he might, he chuckled a bit. "I can see why Raven liked what she had heard about you," he said, gazing at her in what might be termed admiration. "You do have hidden claws, don't you?"

"Who's Raven?" she demanded. "And how do you know who I am? What do you want with me? And who are you, anyways?"

"Raven, or rather Mystique as she prefers to be known, is my second-in-command. We learned of you through our well-placed network of spies and informants soon after your powers -- " he glanced significantly at her still-bare hands " -- emerged. As to what I want with you...I'll get to that later. And as to your question of who I am, I am Magneto, leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants." He drew himself up proudly and importantly as he said that last bit, watching for her reaction.

He was disappointed. "What kind of name is Magneto?" she asked scornfully.

"What kind of name is Rogue?" he shot back, a little miffed.

She shrugged. "You already know my real name, and, like you said, this one fits me better."

He frowned. This conversation was not going as he'd planned. "Magneto fits me better than my human name, as well," he informed her.

"I find that hard to believe," she said dryly. "No offense, but 'Magneto' sounds like a comic book character or something. What's your real name?"

"Erik Lensherr," he said stiffly, then blinked as if amazed that he'd told her. He shook himself. "That is entirely outside the subject of our conversation, however. What is important is that you and I share something in common."

"Something outside of silly aliases?" she asked, just to see that comically annoyed expression on his dignified face again.

He huffed in exasperation. "Yes," he said shortly. "You see, Rogue, like you, I am a mutant. Like you, I have been shunned because of my powers. Like you, I have suffered because of my powers."

Her expression, which had almost had a playful quality to it as she bantered with him, turned suddenly, completely serious at his words.

"I know that you are on your own now because you think that there is no one out there who will support you, who will offer you a place where you will be accepted, nay, respected because of your powers. You are wrong. You have been blessed with a very special gift, Rogue, and I would see you use that gift as it was meant to be used."

She hesitated. "You're offering me a place in your 'Brotherhood of Mutants'?" she asked.

"Yes."

"How do I know I can trust you?" she demanded. "I don't know anything about you."

"You know my names, which is more than most of the Brotherhood knows about me," he said. "Beyond that...Raven tells me that your gift allows you to absorb some knowledge of the people you touch. She said that you called it a special form of empathy. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Then touch me," he invited, stretching out his bare hand towards her.

A voice in her head was screaming at her to refuse, to hitchhike to Laughlin City and get away from this crazy man who thought she had something to offer to the world. Rogue stomped on the voice that was Marie and grasped his hand. He stiffened and all of the color seemed to drain from his face in the mere seconds that she prolonged the contact. When she let go, he leaned heavily against the bar's counter, gasping for air. The expression on her pretty face was thoughtful as she painstakingly assimilated what she had learned from him, so that at the same time that Magneto regained the strength to stand, Rogue's eyes cleared with the knowledge that she had finally made a firm decision about her own life.

"Will you come with me, Rogue?" he asked, no weakness apparent in his voice although he still looked rather frail.

She looked at him through eyes that burned with a newly-awakened conviction, and she said "Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Thanks so much to those who reviewed! I hope this chapter fulfills expectations despite the lack of much Magneto.

* * *

Chapter 2

As Rogue followed Erik -- as she could not help but call him in her mind -- through his large, imposing island fortress, she tried and failed to hide her surprise at the majesty of the edifice. When he had first said he was the leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants, she had almost imagined a little club of mutants meeting once a week at a local gym or something, but this -- this was organization on a scale she had never imagined. They passed a few mutants who were scurrying along here and there and who gave Erik a respectful and slightly fearful distance as he led her imperiously down the mazelike corridors. Unsurprisingly, most of the fortress was constructed of metal, and with the lingering bits of Erik's powers still pulsing through her Rogue almost imagined that the walls were singing to her, and she envied Erik his power.

She knew, of course, why he had sought her out, why he had so carefully planned how to entice her into the Brotherhood, why he was being so unusually solicitous towards her, just as she knew that he did _not_ know that her touch allowed her to so completely become another person. He had thought that he was offering her a guarded reassurance by showing her that his concern for her well-being and for the well-beings of all mutants was sincere, when in reality he had inadvertently revealed to her the entirety of his nefarious plan. She was skeptical about its success, but she would refrain from making a final decision either way until he'd actually tried to talk her into doing what he wanted her to do.

Already she could feel the effect that his presence was having on her mind and thought processes. The change had hardly been noticeable after that one ill-fated kiss with her ex-boyfriend, his weak mind being easily subdued by her own strong will, and the few times she had used her powers in her own defense she had used a knowledge of her own moral superiority to force the presences of her attackers into the darkest recesses of her mind. In Erik, though, she had encountered a mutant with a stubbornness to equal hers and many years of experience to back it up. She refused to allow him to dominate her mind, but she could not keep him from changing her in small, unsurprising ways.

She found, for example, that thinking of her parents no longer inspired a feeling of melancholy bitterness, but instead caused her lip to curl in sincere antipathy. Humans, whom she had looked upon with disgust and hurt ever since her mutancy asserted itself, now appeared to her to be among the vilest of creatures to walk the earth. Then, some German words had started to creep into her thoughts, which was particularly disturbing as she had never spoken a word of the language before.

His effect on her mind was disturbing to say the least, but she decided that this change, like all the others that had occurred in the past month, simply had to be taken in stride.

Erik pointed out various different rooms as he walked, particularly emphasizing the gym, dining hall, and locker room, and she nodded absently, already well familiar with the layout of the fortress from his memories. She forced herself to pay closer attention, however, when she suddenly realized that she had been admiring his profile as they walked, entranced by the stern pride he took in this fortress he had built and the animation in his features when he discussed some achievement of the Brotherhood's. Part of her strange attraction to him, she knew, was the clear knowledge that he was attracted to her. Still, it was one thing for an older man to feel a secret, hidden desire for a younger woman, and quite another thing for that younger woman to feel any attraction towards a man old enough to be her grandfather! She pushed away her distracted thoughts and focused on what he was saying.

"And here is where you will be staying, my dear," he said, gesturing to an anonymous metal door in an anonymous corridor. "I will leave you to get settled in. If you need anything, you can find me in my office; otherwise, breakfast is at seven in the dining hall, and I will see you tomorrow." He bowed courteously and then briskly strode away.

Rogue watched him go until he turned a corner and disappeared from sight, then pushed open the door to her room. It was larger than she expected, with a neatly made bed and elegant dresser, and with a private bathroom attached; she knew that it was a much nicer room than most of the Brotherhood had. He wasn't exactly being subtle in his attempt to persuade her to do what he wanted, it seemed.

She quickly placed her meager possessions in the appropriate places in the room, then walked purposefully out the door and down the hall. She had some research to do.

* * *

Rogue was still in the library several hours later, a number of books strewn on the table in front of her. Mystique watched from the shadows as the young woman darted between texts with a kind of strange frenetic energy; she was too far away to see what the books were about. The girl twirled a strand of brown hair around her finger, frowning at something she had read, then quickly scratched something down on a piece of paper.

Mystique felt her curiosity overcoming her desire to remain hidden, and she cleared her throat as she stepped into the younger woman's line of sight. Rogue's head jerked up in surprise at the sound, and she stared at Mystique as she approached. Mystique took advantage of that moment of inattention and glanced at the titles of the books she was so entranced by, surprised by what she saw. One was a well-worn copy of a book about the Holocaust by a noted scholar. Two were texts on advanced physics, and two on advanced chemistry; there was also a book on advanced mathematics. Machiavelli's _The Prince_ lay open on the corner of the desk.

"Good evening," Mystique said quietly, examining the young woman seated in front of her and liking what she saw.

"Hi," Rogue replied cautiously.

"My name is Mystique," she said. "Of course, you already know that, don't you?

The younger mutant frowned. "How -- "

Mystique gestured to the books. "We had thought that your gift acted only as a form of empathy, which is the only reason I can imagine that Erik would have allowed you to touch him. Apparently, you absorb a lot more than surface emotions, given your eclectic choice of studies."

"I've always been good at math and science," the girl replied defensively, although she clearly didn't expect to actually convince Mystique of her ignorance.

"I know. Who do you think tracked you down for Erik to find? Don't imagine that we would have asked you here knowing nothing about you."

There seemed to be nothing Rogue could say to that.

"You obviously know why you're here," Mystique observed after several prolonged moments of silence. "What I don't understand is why you would choose to come with Erik _knowing_ what he intended to do with you."

Rogue shrugged. "Of course he wouldn't have just let me go if I'd said I didn't want to come with; not for long, at least. And there's something..._intriguing_ about this idea of his. I wanted to consider the possibility." The girl looked up to find Mystique studying her through narrowed eyes. "What?"

The blue mutant shook her head. "You're different than I expected."

Rogue snorted. "What, you thought I was going to become hysterical at the thought of being used in this machine of his?" She picked up the piece of paper she had been working on, allowing Mystique to see that it was a detailed sketch of the machine Magneto intended to use to transform many of the worlds' leaders into mutants.

"Something like that."

She pursed her lips in something like amusement. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly jumping for joy at the idea right now; and I definitely ain't going to agree to _anything_ until it's been proved to me that this machine of his actually works." She gestured expansively at the books she had been studying. "That's what I'm doing here -- trying to figure out whether his machine is as brilliant as it seems, or just the desperate hope of a madman. But whatever happens, I appreciate that Erik is at least giving me the illusion of being able to decide what I want to do."

Mystique was going to say something in response to Rogue's surprising pragmatism, but what actually came out of her lips surprised her completely. "May I touch you?" she asked. She blinked in consternation with herself.

Rogue, too, had not expected that reply. "Why?" she asked warily. She used an ungloved hand to swipe a strand of hair out of her face, her brown eyes intense as she considered the other mutant.

Mystique hesitated. "Because I think that I understand you a little, better than Erik does, at least, and I want you to understand me, too." It was one of the most honest answers she had ever given to a question.

Rogue's expression was still suspicious, but there was a light of comprehension in her eyes. She stepped towards the other woman in invitation, and both of them watched as if from a distance as a scaly blue hand rose of its own volition and rested against her smooth young face. Seconds later, the contact was broken. Mystique watched in fascination as Rogue frowned in concentration, then used her gift to metamorphose herself into a boy Mystique had never met, then Erik, then into Mystique's original human form.

Mystique stared at the exact replica of the body she had had before becoming a mutant, the beautiful, firm lines of her face, her clear skin, the same lithe body she possessed now, and she shuddered in the grip of a powerful emotion.

Rogue/Raven's face softened in a kind of tender understanding, and she reached out a hand as if to give a comforting caress before remembering the danger of her skin. In a moment of unprecedented weakness, Mystique looked away, refusing to confront this image of what she used to be.

"Raven," Rogue said gently, "you are beautiful." The deep voice with which she spoke was the voice Mystique used to have; it was the voice she still had now.

In a sudden fury, Mystique looked back up, blistering words waiting on the tip of her tongue, but choked back her angry reply when she saw what Rogue had done: she had changed herself into Mystique as she was now, and was glaring defiantly back at her. For the first time, she forced herself to look at this body of hers from an outsider's perspective. Her body was as fit and toned as it had ever been. The colors of her skin, hair, and eyes clashed, but the intensity of those eyes was enough to make the others almost not matter. She was not what she had once been; those who had been attracted to her old form would never be attracted to this one. She thought of Erik, and his appreciation for her as she was now, and she thought of Rogue, and her calm acceptance of Mystique herself.

Ever so slowly she reached one hand towards a reflection more honest than any mirror, her fingers pausing only inches away from a face identical to her own. Then Rogue's grasp on her power faded, and before her eyes her own form melted into the younger girl's, leaving only the memory of that one so powerful moment of clarity.

Mystique looked away for a long moment, composing herself and storing away the memory of the past few minutes so that she would never forget.

"It's late," she said brusquely, "and there will be plenty of time to research further before the machine is finished. You should go to bed."

Rogue did not argue, but neatly stacked the books she had been studying and began to precede the other mutant from the room.

"Rogue -- " Mystique called. She turned back to face her, her face questioning. "When the time comes, if Erik can prove that the machine works, you'll agree to power it, won't you?" Mystique thought she knew the answer to that question, but for once in her life did not know with certainty whether she wouldn't rather be proved wrong.

Rogue frowned a little pensively, then smiled a sad smile. There was an extraordinary light in her eyes that Mystique couldn't name. And she said, "Yes."


End file.
